There's Raindrops on Your Windows
by PurpleLightsGleam
Summary: Tate has gone crazy. Violet is the victim. She shouldn't get him to remember. She couldn't get him to remember. Could she? Rated M for later dark violence.
1. Chapter 1

Violet lingered in the kitchen waiting for that stupid puppy to reappear at the door. It was cold; she didn't want to open the door. She wanted to go snuggle in her warm bed and pretend that her heart still needed to pump blood through her veins.

The sharp cry of the dog pulled her out of her thoughts. She unlocked the sliding door and pulled it open. The small dog trotted in. half way through pulling the door shut it stopped.

"You aren't going to leave me out in the cold are you?" She knew his voice, she'd recognize it anywhere. The words of a boy who once loved her, now forgotten feelings linger in his head. He can't remember her death, or his, or that he still sometimes aches for her deep down inside. But he can't get his mind to tell him who he's missing; His subconscious decided it best for him not to know. It makes it easier for both of them. His voice struck fear into her.

He grabbed her arm and pushed his way inside the house. She couldn't help but notice the duffle bag he carried and the fact that his eyes didn't have any emotion in them. He was doomed to wander around the property never knowing that just last week he was stabbing a knife into the too young mistress of her father. She knows she can't help him remember because then she'll have to face the truth of what she did that caused him to forget everything, even though he promised he never would. And she can't stop crying at night because he's not there to hold her. He doesn't know anymore! He doesn't know the faces of the ghosts that float throughout the house. He couldn't recall their real first date or the fact that he took her virginity.

And he never can.


	2. Chapter 2

Violet lay in her bed tucked under the covers. Her eyes peered to the doorway. A set of eyes glowed back at her. Why was he doing this?

"Oh, Violet?" he whispered in a musical voice. It only made the scene more terrifying. She couldn't breathe. Her lungs felt like they shriveled up and died. She pulled further into her hiding place. As his boot clad feet clopped against the floor she let out a small squeak. For a while he just looked at her and for a moment she wasn't sure he saw her. At least, she hoped he didn't. The moonlight shone through the window and she could see the ends of his blonde curls shaking in the darkness.

"I know you're here. I'm not stupid." His voice was sharp and cut into the air. She stayed still, unable to move at all. He ripped the blankets off her to reveal her shaking, goose bump ridden form.

"Tate! Stop! Please stop!" she sobbed. He noticed her body become smaller and smaller in his eyes. She was weak. She meant nothing. She was perfect for what he had planned. He couldn't even hear the words she tried to convey to him. He grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet.

"You let me in, it's time to play." He breathed against her ear. His grip on her loosened and his eyes suddenly looked lost in the space above her. His head coked to the side as his figure slowly faded away. She crawled back into her bed and pulled the blankets up to her chin. Her eyes peered at the door once more. The set of glowing eyes looked back at her. They expressed nothing. Not anger or sadness, just watching her. Footsteps were heard again and she shrieked into her pillow. Hot breathe and moist tears fought not to remind him. She glanced up into eyes that could not remember. She trembled.


	3. Chapter 3

Violet's head pounded. She was stuck in the attic, tied to a chair. Shit, last night, her mind flipped through memories but only came up with one. She had been teetering on the edge of sleep; her arm was stretched out off the bed. Her eyes were closed, her heart beat slowing. Suddenly, her hand was grabbed by a cold one and the fingers of the monster closed around hers. She knew it was him. She didn't move. She just let him hold her hand. It was the only affection she had received from him in a long time. Maybe he dug through his head and found the feelings he had seemingly lost for her. She wanted to open her eyes to find his lovingly ones staring at her but she didn't want to ruin the moment.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Tate entering the room. She only then became aware of the piece of cloth stuck in her mouth. His head was cocked to the side as he walked up to her trapped body. He had a gun in his hand. He put it to his target and aimed. Violet squirmed. Sure she was already dead but all her foggy mind did was attempt to scream and cry. Tate couldn't help but notice the way her neck pulled from side to side and her collarbones were glistening with sweat from the struggle. She wasn't anyone he cared about. He should just get rid of her, he thought. As he went to pull the trigger his heart ached for a reason he didn't know. He couldn't do it. Why? Why couldn't he kill this girl?

He instantly decided he would have to devise another plan.

"Shhhhhhh," he whispered to her still straining figure.


	4. Chapter 4

Violet whimpered as Tate slide the cool blade over her skin. The crimson liquid rose to the cut along her stomach and it made her legs weak. It had been like this before. When things got heavy and sad and emotional and he'd cut up her skin and then fuck her brains out. Something about the situation told her there would be no fucking. All the pain did was turn her on more. If only Tate could remember and then satisfy the burning between her thighs. Suddenly he pressed the knife in deep and she swore she could feel it inside her stomach. Blood gushed onto his gloved hands; the least he could do was touch her with his skin. He chuckled at her sharp cry.

"We might just have to stitch that up." He got out a needle, which she doubted amnesia Tate would have the courtesy to sterilize. Although, it didn't matter. She bit her lip as the needled went in and out of her skin and finally he pulled it tight and tied it off. The sensation was getting dull and she wanted more. Her body wriggled under the ropes and she squeezed her legs together.

"Ah, ah, ah," he tisked, "Don't get too antsy. We have plenty more to go." He smiled an empty expression and then fled down the stairs. He didn't return for days. He must've forgotten or got caught up in remembering. Violet hoped the former.


	5. Chapter 5

Violet gasped into the musty attic air. Tate's knife pressed dangerously against her neck as he pressed his body against hers. Him hitting her sweet spot, as if he had never forgotten were it was, distracted her from the reality of the situation.

He had stormed up the stairs going on and on about Constance yelling at him. He screamed for so long his eyes almost popped out and his skin turned the color of her blood. She just sat and listened and when that wasn't enough for him he untied her and yanked at her clothes until they ripped off. Violet was definitely not complaining but she couldn't let him know how bad she wanted this. If she did she knew he would stop, he was trying to torture her and if he knew this was exactly what she wanted there would be no hope for relief.

She arched her back and pushed her neck against the blade. His grunts grew louder and so did her moans. Before she could do anything about it the metal sunk too deep into her throat. She sighed at the relief of the pain and pleasure mixed together. She tried to hold back a smirk but couldn't at the look on his face: pure ecstasy, then horror. The blood spilled down onto her chest. Normally Tate would be all about this but instead in his state of confusion he jumped off of her.

"Oh my god! Oh my god!" He screamed over and over. His hands found refuge in his hair and she could almost see clumps of it coming out. "I fucking killed her! Fuck!"

Tate didn't remember that they were already dead. He also didn't remember her name. The panic on his face caused an unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach. She wanted to reach out and comfort him, to telling him that she'd be back and alive in a few minutes. In her last thoughts she worried about him remembering this. What if he questioned her reappearance? What would she say to him? How would she explain?

Would she have to remind him of all the bad things he's done and all the reasons he used to believe were the roots of her hatred for him?


	6. Chapter 6

Tate had not been up in the attic in a long time. Violet stayed up there because with eternity to waste it blinked by like a minute. She started to wonder if he still had her "death" on his mind. She had to admit though; she kind of liked being his play toy.

"Vi! Violet!" his all too familiar voice bellowed up the stairs and was too soon followed by his form. "Violet, oh god. I'm so sorry I killed you. I'm sorry I killed all those people. And for everything I've done to you. Oh, fuck, Vi." Tears coated his cheeks and his eyes appeared to burn with sorrow.

"T-Tate? How do you remember that?" Her voice was shaky with emotion. "You forgot everything." He grabbed onto her and forced his face into her shoulder. He felt her chest start to shake as well.

"Aw, look at the pity party we have up here." Hayden's voice was worse than nails on a chalkboard to Violet.

"What are you doing here?" Vi whined.

"Oh, just here to make sure lover boy didn't forget what I reminded him of on his walk up here."

"You fucking bitch!" Violet felt her heart breaking. She never wanted Tate to have to remember, not if he didn't want to. His subconscious was keeping the truth from him for a reason. Maybe he wasn't mentally stable enough and now he was falling to pieces in her arms. "Go. Away," she forced the syllables out. She watched Hayden vanish and then Tate too. "No, not you Tate." She fell to a pile of almost all clothes and her fragile body. "No.."


End file.
